


R-E-N

by cowboykylux



Series: Biker Gang Kylo Ren AU [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Biker Gang AU, Biker!Kylo Ren, F/M, First Meetings, Mention of blood, Protectiveness, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25404862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: You'd never had problems defending yourself, but it sure is nice to have someone step in and help you, and on one such day at a gas station on the wrong side of town, that someone happens to be a mysterious biker named Kylo Ren.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Biker Gang Kylo Ren AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814647
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	R-E-N

You never expected to be there, when it happened. You’d been on your way home from a long day of running errands, noticed that your tank was running too low for comfort, the little light dinging on. Luckily you knew of a gas station on the corner, if you could just make it a few blocks further, you’d be fine. But you’ve never been to this gas station before, not usually needing gas in this part of town. 

“This part of town.” You huffed out a little laugh to yourself as you pulled into the station. It wasn’t so bad, wasn’t so rough. 

That was, until you noticed all the other pumps were taken by a gang of mean looking men, men who stare and whistle at you as you walk inside the little convenience store to pay. 

“Be careful out there with them,” The man at the register says. He’s a kindly old gentleman, and the warning unsettles you. Something tells you he wouldn’t be coming to your rescue if shit got started. “They’re trouble.” 

“Twenty on three, please.” Is all you say back, sliding the cash over to him and leaving, wanting to be finished as soon as possible. 

But the pump only goes so fast, and you can only take the cat-calling for a little while longer before you whip around and tell them to, “Shut the fuck up.”

That was a mistake, you realized it as soon as the words had left your lips. But you were no weak willed person, you were no delicate little flower. No, you stared them down and gave them a hard glare as the gas filled your tank. 

  
It was a dare, and they were foolish enough to challenge you on it. 

“Oh she thinks she’s tough, does she?” They jeer, “C’mere sweetheart show us how tough you are.” 

One of the men pulls out a switchblade, waves it in your direction. You glance at the pump, there’s still five bucks left on it, and you’re not in the habit of wasting gas. You pick up an empty beer bottle and smash it on the side of a cement pole that supports the roof of the gas pumps, not even flinching as you hold it out in front of you. 

Just then, before any sort of fight can happen, the engine of more bikes roar into earshot, heading straight towards you. Your pulse rabbits in your throat because you’re not stupid, you know you can’t fight off an entire gang – when you notice these bikers aren’t dressed the same. One of them nearly throws down his bike when he approaches you, tucks you behind his broad back. 

His jacket has silver embroidered letters into the leather, R - E - N.

“You picked the wrong fucking day to cause trouble,” The man threatens through his helmet, some sort of modulator distorting his voice. He stands between you and the other gang, who begin to curse and start their engines. “Yeah get the fuck out of here, now. And don’t come back or else I’ll slit your throats.” 

The threat should scare you, but it doesn’t. You’re grateful for it, for him, even if you knew you could handle it yourself. Ren turns around then, takes his helmet off. He’s handsome, you think, brown eyes and proud nose, soft lips. Lips he chews as he tries to think of something to say. 

The gas pump clicks then, your twenty bucks spent. 

“Thank you,” You say sincerely, before wincing, realizing that the broken glass from the bottle cut your palm, made blood ooze out ever so slightly, made it smear onto his leather jacket from where you’d braced yourself against his back. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Ren shakes his head, pulls out a bandanna from his pocket and gently wraps it around your palm, taking the bottle and chucking it with expert aim into the garbage can a little ways away. He’s gentle when he puts his hand on yours, looks at you and sighs, “Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“How can I repay you for stepping in?” You ask, sparing a glance to the group of bikers which wait across the parking lot. 

You wave to them, and they wave back. Ren smiles, it looks like a painful expression, one he isn’t used to. You think it makes him look even more handsome, that mild embarrassment of the rest of his gang happily waving at you like you’re all long lost friends and not complete and total strangers, tinting his cheeks.

“Don’t, there’s no need, really. Do you want an escort home?” He asks, gesturing to your car. You’d almost forgotten why you were here, and though this is a kind offer, you weren’t so sure you wanted a gang to know where you lived – even if they were a nice gang. 

“No, that’s alright.” You say, and he gets the hint, gives you one last look before putting on his helmet. He nods and moves to walk away, but you boldly reach out and grab for his hand with a, “Wait! Your bandanna.”

You’re about to take it off when he shakes his head, stops you. 

“Keep it until your hand heals up.” He replies, and something about the way his voice sounds through the helmet makes your throat run dry with want, with a desire you hadn’t felt in a long time. “When you don’t need it anymore, swing by Solo Auto Parts. You can give it to me then.” 

“See you soon, Ren.” You smile at him as you make your way to the driver side of your car. He opens the door for you, blocks you for a moment and stares at you through the visor of his helmet. 

“Call me Kylo.” He says, before leaving you there and joining his gang, their engines roaring back to life as they ride out into the sunset, like something out of a movie. 

Solo Auto Parts, you commit the name of the shop to memory, commit his face now hidden to memory too. You’d be visiting before your hand healed up, would find some excuse, you knew you would.

Little did you know it’d be the start of a beautiful, if unconventional, relationship. 


End file.
